Santa's a bitch!
by shelikescookies
Summary: Stan and Craig discussing when and why they stopped believing in Santa, plus past days. Pairing: Cran, implied Creek/Style


_So, hello fellas?  
No, I don't want to say, that this is, like, my first story here, but that's exactly it... Got that "idea" from this Tumblr page "Imagine your OTP"... Bonus points for the one who finds it :'D  
Well, that's it for now... Have fun, reading it!_

* * *

**Santa's a b*tch!**

„When did you stop?"

Stan sat in just a hoody and his boxers on a chair in Craig's darkened room, only having the moonlight brining in some brightness. A few minutes ago, he grabbed the old guitar, the boy used to play on when he was younger, and is still trying to play some chordes by himself. The only thing he managed to play was _Smoke On The Water_. He looked up to Craig, who lay on his bed and took a drag from his ciragrette. Its smoke filled the room for a short moment, but due to the open window its gone quickly.

„When did what stop?", replied Stan, now just pulling on some strings, hoping that something great will come out of it.

„When did you stop believing in Santa, of course.", he repeated like it's obvious. He took another drag and blew the smoke into the room, more into Stan's direction. He could observe how he lifted his head, a look of terror in his face. He also stopped „playing".

„Santa isn't real! Oh man, you should've told me earlier." He shook his head in disbelieve and seemed really outraged. „Damn, how could you do this." Stan couldn't keep his façade going, so he began grinning at the last part. Craig just glared at him and he rolled his eyes. Stan also continued pulling on the guitar strings.

„I stopped believing around the age of nine or ten. I don't know anymore, just that what happened back then. I think, it became some kind of a trauma.", Stan explained in a calm tone, even though this memory still bothers him. He waited for Craig to answer, to ask for further informations, what happened exactly. The boy looked over to the bed and could see how his friend lit another cigarette. Maybe he wasn't even listening. „You should stop smoking so much."

„Shut up, you're smoking, too."

„True that.", Stan admitted. He placed the guitar next to the desk and stood up, walking to the bed. He fingered a cigarette out of the package and grabbed to lighter to lit it. When he was about to put the lighter back, he realised that it was the one, he got for Craig two years ago for his birthday. They were „dating" just a few month, but back then he began to smoke and Stan knew, he wouldn't stop that fast, so he thought of something as a present. Just for that he went to a gold smith to get this special lighter made. It's a silver one with several engravings. The ones that peek out the most are his name and the date of his birthday.

Stan couldn't help but smiling.

„I can't believe you kept that.", he whispered and sat down next to Craig, who let this conversation drop.

„You don't believe in Santa, 'cause...", Craig began the sentence for Stan. He nearly forgot about that.

„So you were listening.", the slightly smaller boy remarked and leaned to the other to press a kiss on his neck. Craig flinched away.

„Stop it. You got Kyle for that things." He growled and took a deep drag this time. He watched Stan doing the same.

„Sure do, but he won't let me touch him, since we got that fight a week ago. He's so stubborn sometimes." Stan thought about that moment for a few seconds, but Craig prevented him from doing so.

„Doesn't mean you can try to get me laid."

„It was worth a shot.", he sighed and squeezed the stump of the cigarette into the ashtray. He cleared his throat as he began to tell his hard-luck story. „On the evening before christmas I usually sleep like a baby and don't hear anything what going on in the house. Which was really sad, because I always wanted to stay awake and sneak on Santa. But something in this night woke me up and I heard noises from downstairs, so I went looking for it and was hoping to finally see Santa, but instead of him I saw my dad. He was putting the presents under the christmas tree and was knocking furniture over." Stan rolled his eyes. „But I got what I wanted, so it was okay."

„Lovely", Craig said unaffected.

Stan pouted.

„What's your story?"

„I don't have a story. I still believe in Santa and he's brining my presents every year and precisely what I wanted.", he explained in a very cheesy tone.

„You're a bad liar.", deadpanned Stan.

„I can do better, I just wasn't trying.", he confessed, still no emotion mirroring in his face.

„Will you tell me what happened?"

„I was six, when I stopped believing. I always wanted a toy car, a very special one. It was big and red and if you pushed a button on its roof it would drive by itself, until it crashes into something. I never got it and afterwards my mom explained me that it was too expensive. I only got a miniature of it, but it didn't even have tires." Craig would never admit that, but he was really disappointed, because of that. Apart from that, he still wanted that car.

„If they still sell that?", wondered Stan.

„That was about twelve years ago, probably not."

They sat on the bed for a very long time, back on back, both smoking another cigarette, plus getting a headache due to that smoke.

Stan straightened himself and pushed against Craig's back, leading his head on the others shoulder. He got a perfect view from his profile in the best light – which was the moon spending while shining through the window in the dark.

„What time is it?", he asked, trying not to smile so hard, since he already was in a relationship and he was actually done with Craig.

Said person's gaze fell onto a clock, that was hanging on a wall across the room.

„Half past ten.", he whispered, not wanting to scream into Stan's ear.

He still had his head on the shoulder, letting the moment sink in. He closed his eyes for a second before he sighed and sat up. He searched for his skinny jeans on the floor and put it on, as he found it. He adjusted his hat, he was wearing the whole time and zipped his hoody up. Now he was looking for his boots.

„Why're never wearing your pants when you're here?" Craig was asking that himself all the time.

„When we were together neither of us were wearing any pants. Seems like it became a steady habit. Plus it's much more conventient that way.", said Stan in a sing-sang voice.

„Stop brining up that we used to date.", demanded Craig, massaging his temples.

„_Dating_ is that something you have with Tweek now, we rather fucked than doing this emotional stuff.", Stan murmured from the floor, while tying his shoelaces.

„Tweek and I do both, just for your information.", he answered calmly, but indifferent.

„Great, if I want that again, too, I have to hurry to get to Kyle and apologize." Stan adjusted his clothes for the last time and looked to Craig. He seemed to think about something; he had this look on his face.

„I wonder, if Kyle's a screamer in bed."

Stan fell everything out of his face and needed a few moments to catch himself.

„Seriously? You're really wondering about that stuff?", Stan asked, wanting to get that straight now.

„I bet, he is, since you're not."

„I'm not gonna tell you, dude." Stan kept quiet for a while, than blushing slightly, even if he didn't intend to. „Is Tweek a screamer?"

„I wish, he were. I could go off just hearing him whispering my name. But Mr. „I'm afraid that the whole world might hear me, if I even squeak a little" does everything to prevent him from moaning out loud." Craig shrugged. „But I still get him to do so. So..."

„So what?"

„I'm happy with him. I really am and I hope you're gettin' the thing right with Kyle. I don't want to share my cigarettes with you all the time. Bring you own the next time."

„If you're lucky, I'll remember." Stan turned around, ready to go, but then stopped as he spotted that lighter again. He smiled and pointed at it. „Don't you dare losing it."

„I'd like to tell you not to lose a specific thing, too, but I already took it from you, so that won't count."

Stan blushed as Craig implied his loss of virginity. He just waved at him, then left through the door.

Craig leaned on his windowsill and watched Stan having his walk home, leaving footprints in the snow.

* * *

When Christman arrived, the family Tucker assembled around the christmas tree, unwrapping the presents. Craig examined the presents carefully before he took the one with a different pattern than the others. He held it in his hands and looked to his mother.

„Whom is this from?"

„Your friend, Stand, came here in the moring and asked me to put it under the tree for you. He's such a nice guy.", she replied and observed the present like her son did. „What are you waiting for? Open it!"

Craig unwrapped the present sceptically and looked like he's about to get a heart attack.

„What is it? What is it?", asked Ruby excited from his side.

„It's that car... The car I wanted when I was six. I told him about it.", Craig said, still taken by surprise.

„What a great present. You must be very happy!"

„I hate this guy."

That were Craigs last words, before he grabbed the car and went to his room. Trying really hard not to grin like an idiotic school girl.

**The End**


End file.
